


#13

by hhopp



Series: Hhopp's Destiel Angst-a-Thon [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas Whump, Depressed Castiel, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhopp/pseuds/hhopp
Summary: "You need to eat something."





	

“Cas.”

 

“Cas, buddy, look at me.”

 

“Please, Cas.”

 

He heard him. He probably ought to respond, but… why?

 

Dimly, he registered Dean’s calloused hands gripping his own. He could see worried green eyes, but the film reel spinning in his head was more urgent. To the average person, he knew it would have looked like a meteor shower. But he knew the truth. And he also knew that it was his fault. 

 

Those calloused hands came up to shake at his lapels. He flopped back and forth with them. To Dean, he probably looked like the Raggedy Andy doll his mother had given him as a little child. 

 

“C’mon, Cas, please. Look at me, snap out of it. We’ll fix this, c’mon, man. I’m worried about you.”

 

Wonderful. Add _making Dean worry_ to the never-ending list of _Castiel’s screw-ups_. Dean forced out some frustrated half-growl half-sob and gave him one last shake before leaving the room. Some time later, Sam came in. He sat on the edge of the bed and fixed him with a long, hard stare before speaking. 

 

“Cas, listen, man. I can tell you that this isn’t your fault until I’m blue in the face, but I know you aren’t going to believe me. Now, you can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can get into the library with us and help us fix this. That can be your ‘atonement’ or whatever if that’s what you think you need. But we’re worried about you. Really worried. You’re in here staring at the ceiling, so you aren’t seeing Dean. He’s falling apart over this. He’s not eating, he’s sleeping even less, it’s just— it’s a mess. He’s a wreck, seeing you like this. If you won’t come back to the real world for us, maybe you will for him.”

 

That should have pulled him out of this. Dean hurting, especially if it was his fault… he couldn’t help but want to stop it. But more than that, he wanted to shrink himself down to the size of an ant and be swallowed up by the universe. He couldn’t exactly do that, so he rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. A muttered, “ _dammit,_ Castiel,” was noted but ignored. The bed shifted as Sam stood up and left. 

 

He must have fallen asleep, because he found himself being tugged back into wakefulness by the hand on his shoulder. It was too small to be Sam’s. 

 

“You’re human, now. And I don’t care if you’re moping, you need to eat something.” Next thing he knew, he was being rearranged. Rolled onto his back, propped up against the pillows, hands in his lap. Dean shuffled around for a moment. “I guess I’m feeding you, then. Will you open your mouth for me, or am I doing that, too?” 

 

When he didn’t respond, Dean reached up and carefully grabbed his chin. 

 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ll say it. I really thought that the first time I opened your mouth it would be after sharing a milkshake in some retro diner or whatever. Much more romantic than force-fed soup.” Wow. That was definitely something to think about later. Hot liquid dribbled into his mouth; it burned his tongue. He flinched away. 

 

“Is it too hot? Wait, no, you aren’t talking. Blink for me, then. Uh… One for yes, two for no.” Cas focused on him. Wide green eyes. Then, slowly and deliberately, he blinked. Dean’s face lit up. “Hey, buddy. How— how are you?” That couldn’t be answered with a blink. He squinted. “Right, right. Sorry. You doin’ okay?” Two blinks. “Ah, well, you’ll get there. Sam and I always do. You wanna feed yourself or do you want me to keep going? Or… wait, crap, that’s two questions. Yes if you want me to keep feeding you.” Right, then. One blink. Dean chuckled at him.

 

In a joint effort, Cas consumed an entire bowl of soup. They made conversation as he ate; or, the next best thing. 

 

_So you were an ingredient in Metatron’s spell?_ One blink.

 

_And that spell’s why the angels fell._ One blink.

 

_And you blame yourself._ One blink.

 

_And you know that’s total crap, right?_ Two blinks.

 

_Oh, come on, man. You were manipulated. Just because that… what’d you call Lucifer again? Assbutt?_ (One blink) _That “assbutt” played you like a fiddle, sure, but that doesn't mean that this is your fault._ Cas closed his eyes for a little while after that. 

 

_Alright, alright. I get the picture. You still feel guilty. No need to pout._ He opened his eyes again. _Ah, there are those pretty eyes of yours. It’s a damn shame to hide them like that. Tell you what— you come out and join Sam and I for a bit today and you can stay quiet as a church mouse. Yeah? We’re cataloguing all this old “Men of Letters” junk, doesn’t exactly require conversation. Whaddya say?_

 

He didn’t respond for a while. Dean sighed at him, squeezed his hands. Cas accepted a few more swallows of broth. Just as Dean was getting ready to leave, he tugged on his sleeve. 

 

One blink. 

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Kudos, Comments, you know the drill if you've ever read an author's note before.


End file.
